


Don't You Dare Look Back

by JustAnotherNarrator



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Male-Female Friendship, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-09-10 18:57:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 17,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8929051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAnotherNarrator/pseuds/JustAnotherNarrator
Summary: He was following Merle. That, right there, could easily be the summary to the story of his life. Always a step or two behind his brother, always doing what Merle decided they were gonna do and in this case, it meant shoving all their stuff in his pickup truck and heading down to Atlanta. 
 
  A stand-alone, what-if story told in a series of vignettes based around a simple idea: What if Daryl and Michelle had meet near the very beginning of the outbreak, back when both his brother and her father were still alive and the world barely understood the precarious situation it was in?





	1. Chance Encounter

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's Note:** First of all, this is a stand alone story from my other ones, even if the same OC, Michelle, appears in here. (I wanted to do a bit of character study and see how different she would become if she'd met up with Daryl and the group early on rather than being found by Beth and Daryl midway through Season 4 after being alone for some time.) This will be a series of vignettes from different moments in time and not a day-to-day account of their lives through the apocalypse. Also, I may not go completely canon compliant in this story which, for me, is a very big departure from form. Nothing certain just yet though. And as always, a fair bit of warning that I feel the need to mention in all my author's notes: this story could be abandoned at any point since I have the unfortunate habit of not finishing the stories I start. And with that, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> **Chapter Note:** Since I have not played Survival Instinct, I am going to ignore it and do my own take on how Merle and Daryl first found themselves around Atlanta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Since I have not played Survival Instinct, I am going to ignore it and do my own take on how Merle and Daryl first found themselves around Atlanta.

He was following Merle. That, right there, could easily be the summary to the story of his life. Always a step or two behind his brother, always doing what Merle decided they were gonna do and in this case, it meant shoving all their stuff in his pickup truck and heading down to Atlanta. Reports of more and more people coming down with The Disease had lead the government to press people into moving toward the big cities for safety and they'd even shut down all the airports about a week earlier. And although the Dixon brothers were not really the type to listen to what the government was recommending, things had been getting weird even around their parts which had prompted this little road trip.

A few hours earlier, Merle had gotten back from God knows where, and at first, Daryl thought he was just tripping when he'd burst in and began throwing all the he cared about into bags - duffel and trash - raving like a lunatic about getting the hell out of Dodge. Well, it was either that or he'd just screwed the wrong guy's girl... or he'd stolen something from someone he shouldn't have. But regardless of the reason, his brother was spooked enough to want to leave and, of course, Daryl was going to go with him. It was only after they'd stopped at a some truck stop that Merle had finally told him what had gotten him in such a state. As it turned out, his brother had been out as his favorite dive most of the night - that one place up the road with some waitress named Sally who Merle was intent on adding to his list of bad decisions - when some guy had busted and literally took a bite out of the girl, like those stories the news had been reporting about.

If what his brother was saying turned out to be true, maybe Atlanta truly was the best option right about then, and that was where they were headed now. Merle was riding just ahead on his bike, calmer now than he'd been earlier, but that was most likely due the half bottle of Jack they'd shared at the truck stop. He was hanging back a little, not really in as much of a hurry as his brother to get to the big city. Especially not to be stuck like sardines with a bunch of strangers in some government run camp...

Running a hand through his short hair, he nearly didn't see the two people suddenly running out of the woods and coming to a screeching halt as they reached the highway, almost landing right in front of his truck if he hadn't slammed the break at the last second.

"What the hell people?!"

He shouted but the two on the side of the road didn't answer, too busy trying to catch their breaths. The man had to be in his late 50s to early 60s, based on the lines on his face and his salt and pepper hair. He was bright red in the face and probably shouldn't have been running the way they had. Wheezing loudly, he sat down on top of one of the two suitcases they'd been carrying and raised a hand up toward Daryl as if trying to silently apologize for jumping right in front of his truck. The woman next to him had her hands on her knees, bending forward and still trying to start breathing normally again, he couldn't her face, hidden behind a curtain of long ginger hair until she straightened up. She had dark eyes, just like the man, and her dark eyebrows told him right away that the curtails didn't match the drapes as Merle would say.

With that thought, he looked away from the two of them, and saw his brother way ahead of him. He honked his horn three times, before finally getting his big brother's attention and watched him turn his bike around and coming back toward him on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't continue down that way if I were you..."

The older man's voice was low and friendly-sounding if a bit raw from all the panting, Daryl looked over at him again, wondering how he dared tell him what he should be doing. He was about to give him an earful, telling him just that, but his words were buried under the roar of Merle's bike.

"Why the hell d'you stop, brother?" Merle shouted as he killed the engine, his eyes going from him to the man and woman next to the truck. "We ain't got time to horse around, if we're gonna make it to Atlanta before it gets dark."

The man was about to say something, probably ready to reiterate the warning he'd just given Daryl while the ginger-haired woman seemed determined on staying quiet, her dark eyes following him as he got out of the truck with a slam of the door and walked over to his older brother. "Those two just came running out of nowhere," he explained, giving a sideway glance at the other two. "I almost ran them over... That old man said we shouldn't be going that way."

Merle's expression told him right away that he was quite unimpressed with that explanation, eyeing him as if he was some kind of idiot. "And what the hell do we care 'bout what he's saying?" His brother questioned, flicking him on the forehead for added emphasis on how stupid he thought he was being. "We're going to Atlanta. End of the freaking story."

"You really shouldn't."

They both turned to see the man approaching them, telling the woman behind him to stay back with raised hand as he went. Now that he was standing straight, he looked much larger than on first glance, he was at least an inch or two taller than the two brothers and in his younger days, he could have potentially taken them in a fight. But this would have been many years and many burgers and beers ago. He was approaching them carefully, and Merle already looked as if he wanted to kick the man's teeth in for telling him what to do, a feeling that Daryl had shared a few minutes ago, but now that the man was actually repeating the same warning, something made him believe they might wanna listen to him.

Merle was taking a step forward when Daryl blocked his path with one arm, much to his brother's surprise. They exchanged looks; Merle's asked what he was doing, while his own tried to tell him to listen to the man at least.

"Look, it's none of my business," the man acknowledge, standing just out of arms range. "But, we just spent a week stuck inside Atlanta International and..." The man shuddered, before shaking his head. Whatever had happened back there seemed to have really rattled him. "It's really bad."

"It's really bad," Merle mocked, throwing his hands up in some girly way for good measure before scoffing. "It ain't any better out here, pal," he spat at the man before turning his head toward him and telling him to get back in the truck, that they were leaving. As he took a sit on his bike again, he added, "The military's protecting folks against them infected ones in the cities, at least."

"The military's shooting people on sight!" They all turned at once, toward the woman who was still standing by the truck, passing a hand through her long hair, her low voice shaking as she spoke. After running her tongue along her lips as she took a deep breath, she continued, calmer this time, with the sort of distress seeping into her words. "Infected or not, they just started shooting at the crowd. That's when we ran."

This revelation somehow didn't surprise Daryl that much, but Merle still had respect for military men even after his dishonorable discharge. As he glanced over to him, his brother looked like someone had just hit him in the gut and he didn't know whether to fight back or disappear somewhere to lick his wounds in private. Instead, his brother shoved the arm Daryl was still holding him back with aside and cursed loudly before kicking an abandoned tire into the woods, still shouting in anger.

"Sorry to be bearers of bad news like that. I'm John, by the way," the man stepped forward hand extended toward Daryl. "John Mason, and that's my daughter, Michelle."

Daryl hesitated to shake the man's hand, looking over at Merle first for some sort of guidance or signal of what he wanted, but his brother was too busy with pacing like a caged animal to give him any kind of attention. Finally, he took the man's hand and gave it a quick shake.

"I'm Daryl. That's Merle." There was a long pause, cars whizzing past them and before he knew it, he added: "You two need a ride?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** I must apologize for the clichéd last name, I just couldn't help myself!


	2. Don't Believe Everything You See on TV

The night the television stopped broadcasting was terrifying.

They'd been holed up in an abandoned roadside motel about thirty minutes outside the city for two days at that point; the owners had left the place unlocked before leaving for Atlanta, or so the sign on the door of the office said, along with their authorization that _anyone can stay here for free until things got better_. It honestly wouldn't have mattered to the Dixon brothers if whether the owners were okay with them staying there or not, but it did ease the mind of the other half of their little group.

Most of the time was spent in front of the ancient tube television in John and Michelle's room - the ones in both Merle's and Daryl's rooms had already been looted, of course - switching back and forth between the few channels that still showed news and the other ones that had been taken over by the emergency broadcast system. Or at least, that was the way the Masons and Daryl were spending their time while Merle stumbled around in a constant stupor. He was still reeling from the whole situation and his brother thought it best to let him process in his own way, even if it meant having to wrestle a loaded gun out of his hand every few hours.

It was late in the evening and the older Dixon was sleeping it off in an armchair in the corner of the room while Daryl sat on one of the beds, John and Michelle on the other. None of them had said anything in nearly an hour, eyes fixed on the images coming in from throughout the country, all of them showing more and more infected people while every journalist and reporter tried to assure the viewers that the military and researchers at the CDC were handling the situation. _Everything should be back to normal in a matter of days, weeks at the most_ , they all said before urging people still in their hometowns to head for the nearest large city for extra protection. That as they knew was absolute crap, there was no safety in the cities. It felt like there was no safety anywhere really.

The news anchor of one of the last two stations still broadcasting gave a speech they'd gotten used to by now, thanking the viewers for allowing him to bring them the news for seven years running, to have welcomed him into their lives, and all that, but now it was the time for this station to let their employees go home and be with their families in this time of fear. He hadn't even finished his little speech that the screen switched to the emergency broadcasting system. Michelle stood from her seat next to her father to change the channel, the remote control's battery having died out a few hours prior, before long though, it became evident that the other station had also left the air. And at exactly nine o'clock, the emergency system stopped as well.

The empty screen stared back at them as Daryl frantically tried to flip through the channels growing more and more aggravated with each press of the buttons. He smacked the side of the machine, nearly sending it flying off the chest of drawers.

"Hey, calm down!" Michelle's voice resonated in the quiet room, even causing Merle to stir, his head rolling back as loud snores began escaping his mouth. "Maybe this just temporary, a glitch or something, but we won't know if you destroy the stupid thing."

Daryl was in her face in a second, towering over her, but to his surprise, she didn't flinch or step back, instead, she held his burning gaze. "Don't you tell me what to do, _girl_ ," he spat that last word at her like it was an insult. This was quite possibly the most words he'd said to her since he'd picked her and her father up. It wasn't really that surprising given the fact that he wasn't really the talkative type in general, although he'd gotten to know her father a little more since they'd climbed in his truck, mainly because John was the talkative type. But when it came to Michelle, he didn't feel like there anything he could have in common with someone like her; she looked like the type of girl who spent a lot of time trying to make herself look pretty to make up for what she actually looked like, the sort that needed protecting and constant attention. He wanted nothing to do with someone like that. And growling in her face like that, it was unlikely they'd exchange any more words in the future, as those dark eyes of hers burned right back at him and for a second, he thought he might get a slap.

The staring match lasted only a few seconds before John grabbed his daughter's shoulders and pulled her back. The older man was already talking about how this was probably just a glitch and the emergency system would be back on in the morning, and how, until then, maybe it was best to just calm down and go to sleep. Both Daryl and Michelle's jaws were set and they both seemed about to argue, but the man had a point and even if they spent the night glaring at each other, it wouldn't bring the television back on faster.

"I'll help you get your brother back to his room," John said, already walking over to where Merle was still sleeping.

They hoisted him up to his feet, waking him in the process, but he still let the two of them carry him, his legs were like jelly under him after all the booze and painkillers he'd mixed and the fact he hadn't eaten since morning only made that worst. As they walked him past the television, the older Dixon straightened up though, blinking at the black screen for a long moment. "Why d'y'all turn that off? Could be something important on."

"It's gone, Merle," Daryl replied to him, his voice low and words heavy. He sounded like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. "It's all gone, bro..."

The three of them were barely out the door when it happened. When that thing came out of one of the rooms and straight at them. Stumbling and snarling. Merle's addled eyes became suddenly focused as he saw it, and suddenly he was pushing John in toward that thing, grabbing his brother by the back of his vest, pulling him backward into the motel room. Daryl hesitated for a second just standing there in the doorway, watching that thing that wasn't quite human anymore approach the gray-haired man on his hands and knees in the gravel; should he step inside and close the door behind him like Merle was shouting at him to do, leaving John to fight off the infected man on his own or should he go there and help him?

Before he could make a choice, a flash of screaming orange whisked by him. He watched in disbelieve as the small woman smacked the thing across the face with the room's courtesy iron, most likely the first thing she'd gotten her hands on. The thing fell on its back and she turned toward her father, helping him back up. As soon as John was up again though, Michelle's scream pierced the night as the infected man grabbed at her leg, jaws smacking together as it tried to bite her. Her father was wheezing, hardly able to move himself but still kicking at the thing to try and get it to let go of his daughter, but it was determined.

Before he knew it, he was running outside himself, Merle shouting his name behind him as he kicked the thing's arm, breaking at the elbow. It didn't scream, didn't retreat, just reached its other hand out to try and get one of them again. John took the iron from Michelle's hands and smashed it against the other arm and still it kept staring at them, snarling like a wild animal. This wasn't just a sick person as they'd been saying on the television... It was something else entirely.

The gunshot surprised them all, making them jump back as Merle got three rounds into the thing's body. And still, it kept coming. It wasn't until the fourth bullet, the one that hit the thing's brain that it stopped moving.

"Them things ain't people. They're dead."

His voice sounded off even to his own ears, breathless and a bit shaky, even lower than usual. He swallowed hard, he blinked at the finally dead thing on the ground. They all looked at each other, all of them trying to catch their breath. Michelle was shooting dirty looks at Merle, not quite surprising after his big brother had all but tried to sacrifice her father to the dead man; he would be doing the same if either of them had tried to pull the same thing with his brother. Protecting their kin, that was one thing they definitely had in common.

After a bit of an argument, mainly between John and Michelle, Merle and him headed back to their rooms, but only to grab their bags and moved in to the Masons' room. None of them would likely be able to sleep that night, but there was safety in numbers and in the morning, they could start thinking of where to go from here.


	3. It's the End of the World as We Know It... (And I Do Not Feel Fine)

They had planned to split up. After their first encounter with what John had coined a "dead one", tension was running pretty high. A powder keg of a situation that could have blown up at any moment. Any conversation regarding what to do next came down to the very same dead end, Merle thought heading for the coast would be the best plan and, of course, Daryl was planning on going with him. On the other hand, John and Michelle wanted to start heading back north, toward some small Canadian town the brothers had never heard of, where John still lived and where Michelle had grown up. After much arguing, it became clear that there was no resolution in sight and a conclusion was drawn, the Masons would stay with Merle and Daryl until they could get a vehicle of their own and then the two families would go their own ways. That was the plan at least.

"...well, as they say, the best-laid plans of mice and men, and all that..." Michelle sighed, passing her fingers through her long ginger hair before dropping her head against the back window of the cab as she sat sandwiched between Daryl and her father.

Daryl hit the horn again, and another time after that for good measure, like he'd been doing for better part of the past two and a half hour, not caring that it was absolutely useless given the gridlock around them. They were stuck and there wasn't much that they could do except growing more and more frustrated by the minute. The radio still urged people to get to the refugee center nearest them, a message they all could have recited by heart now had they been so inclined. Groaning in frustration, the younger Dixon was deeply regretting not pushing back on this stupid idea to take the freeway, instead of the less popular side roads.

Merle was somewhat ahead of them, his bike making it much easier to sneak by the all but parked cars around him. No one was moving and no one knew why. All they knew was that by now there were cars as far as the eyes could see in either directions. A lot of people had even started leaving their vehicles, getting out for a piss or to talk to the people around them. Some were sharing food with strangers, and he definitely enjoyed his share and a little more, while others were having prayer circles, which he scoffed at in passing. People stepping out on their cars also meant that their belongings were left unattended and his pockets were starting to feel a good bit heavier than they'd been as they'd left the motel.

After chatting with some little cutie from Alabama for a bit, he'd began circling back slowly, past his bike and all the way to his brother's pick up truck, watching the three other members of their dysfunctional little group as he approached. He didn't understand why Daryl hadn't just left those idiots behind at the motel to fend for themselves; their lives or deaths didn't matter to him and they shouldn't matter to his brother either. In a way, it reminded him of the time a six year-old Daryl had taken home a one-eyed kitten that the neighborhood kids had been torturing, he'd hidden the thing in his room for nearly a month before their dad had found it. And then it had been goodbye kitty and a stern disciplining for Daryl. After so many years, Merle had thought he would have grown out of rescuing strays.

"I found you something, little brother," Merle proclaimed, leaning against the driver's door of the old truck, already digging into the pocket of his vest as he watched his brother biting at his nails. Grinning his trademark grin, he tossed a pack of cigarettes through the open window which his brother caught with ease. He watched with a pleased look on his face as Daryl tore through the pack and light up a smoke in record time; as much as he liked to deny it, that brother of his was as addicted to his cigarettes as Merle himself was to... well, many other things. That was part of who they were, part of their DNA.

"How does it look up there?" John asked, his large frame squeezed rather tightly between his daughter and the passenger door. Sweat gleamed on his forehead, that Georgia weather was not what he was used to up in Canada and sitting in the heat for hours on end was starting eat at his good-nature.

"As you see." Merle made a big point of showing off, spreading his arm wild as if to showcase the gridlock in it's entirety. "There ain't nothing going anywhere, Johnny-boy."

Whatever Michelle had been replying, something not too pleasant from the look on her face, it was covered up by the sound of something overhead, a helicopter from the noise it made. They all tried to look outside, to see despite the darkened sky where it was coming from, and as quickly as it had started, it was gone. Along with something else.

"...guys, the radio stopped."

The radio broadcast, the one that had been driving them mad for the past few hours had finally gone the same way the television had the night before, leaving in its wake only static and a feeling of dread. The four of them looked at each other, the end of the television broadcast had lead to their encounter with the dead one and danger of which was still fresh in their mind. Time seemed to stop right then, Merle had stopped grinning and Daryl's cigarette just hung from his lips, the greenish tone of Michelle's face was clashing badly with the bright orange of her hair while John just held his head in his hands. All of them seemed to feel it, something bad was about to happen.

As time seemed to hurry forward to catch up for its brief pause, Michelle pushed her way past her father and out of the truck, emptying her stomach on the side of it. Shaking like a leaf, a curtain of hair hiding her face, she tried to catch her breath as the other three circled around the vehicle to where she was. She half-expected to hear Daryl go off like a rocket at the sight of the vomit which had hit the side of his ride, but as her dad pulled her hair back from her face, whispering comforting words as he went, she only saw the two Dixons staring into the woods, something bright yellow shining in the distance.

She pushed herself back into a standing position, following along as they all began to move toward the treeline along with others who were leaving their cars behind and following the deafening noises over head and the terrified screams around them. They pushed through the crowd, Daryl first with Merle only a few steps behind him until he got held back when some guy began yelling at him for elbowing him out of the way. Her eyes trailed back, watching the older Dixon throwing a punch at the other man, until ground shook below their feet. Heads snapped to attention as everyone fell silent, the vision of horror before them would haunt them long after tonight.

John spun his daughter around, forcing her face away from the devastation they were witnessing as he cradled her against him. Thirty years-old or not, she was still his little girl and if there was any way he could spare her any of this ugliness he would do his darness to make it happen. Deep down, he knew that she'd seen it, that those images were probably burned into her brain already, but he didn't let go. He held her close with one large hand on the back of her head and the other rubbing her back; to others, it probably looked like he was comforting her, but really he was also comforting himself.

Eventually, as they listened to bombs falling over Atlanta, her arms wrapping around his belly. Tears were streaming down his face, getting caught in his laugh lines before drooping down onto Michelle's hair. He felt Daryl's eyes landing on him and without hesitation, he let go of his daughter's back and placed one big, paw-like hand on the younger man's shoulder. It stayed there only for a moment. Just long enough to try and offer some support as the world they knew forever changed before their very eyes.


	4. In The Right Direction

They didn't stay anywhere for long, just circling Atlanta despite the desolation because none of them really knew what else to do. They still talked about the coast or Canada, but nothing came of it. In truth, the idea of separating their little ragtag group seemed like a bad plan despite their differences in opinion on nearly everything. Of course, Daryl and Merle brought their survival skills to the table, the Masons proved themselves more useful than the brothers had anticipated; Michelle was surprisingly resilient and had a very practical and pragmatic way of thinking while John, despite his age, was still quite strong, but most of all, he was able to relate to the three others and bridge the gaps between them. The oldest man was quickly becoming the heart of their quartet.

"What kind of man's never hotwired a car before?" Merle asked as he laid on his back under the old VW camper's steering wheel. He had two cables in hand which he quickly proceeded to strip with his teeth.

"Never had a need for it before," John explained with a deep chuckle, bending over to try and get a better view of what the other man was doing. Never in his life had he expected to learn such a thing either, but when the world chose to throw a curve ball like reanimating the dead, one had no choice but to adapt in order to survive.

Daryl was watching the whole thing from the sidelines, smoking a cigarette as he tried to work the kinks out of his back. Days of driving with no real destination meant a lot of time cramped inside his truck, something he wasn't a fan of even when there wasn't two more people inside the cab with him; he was beginning to understand how sardines must feel in their little cans. Hopefully, if Merle was able to get the Westfalia started, this would be a thing of the past though. Plus, they would all have a safe place to sleep if they needed something stronger than the tents they'd found inside the abandoned vehicle.

For a nearly 30 years old camper, it started rather easily. Just a few touched of the cables and the engine began purring. John thanked Merle for his help, clapping the other man on the back as if they were best of friends, seemingly having forgiven Merle for pushing him in front of the dead less a week earlier. During the whole operation, Michelle had been jolting down some notes in her journal. She didn't speak much these days, instead she listened, trying to absorb every possible survival tips Daryl or Merle might mention and writing them down for future use, although there was no telling how useful those might end up being without practice.

Now that they had three running vehicles, they needed a heading, just some new place that they'd probably end up abandoning quickly but that would keep them moving. So, while John moved the two suitcases that consisted in all that he and his daughter had left in the world, Daryl and Michelle were bent over the map spread on the hood of the pickup truck. They'd been doing their best to stick to the smaller roads, the ones less likely to be gridlocked with abandoned vehicles now that people had realized Atlanta wasn't as safe as they'd been lead to believe.

Somehow, they'd become the navigators, but often butted heads on where to go. Daryl was of the opinion that they should head for more wooded areas, places where there would be less people and therefore, less likely to attracted some of the dead ones. She, on the other hand, was rather nervous about all that could be hiding in the woods and preferred to have walls and a roof to protect them. It was becoming harder and harder though, to find some of those places, because people were people which meant that when they got scared, they got destructive. Most of the safe looking houses they'd found the past few nights had turned out to be anything but, something Daryl had been quick to point out.

"I think we should try Interstate 85," she concluded after a few minutes of pondering. She pushed her hair back behind her ear before glancing over to the younger Dixon brother who was looking back at her in surprise. "My way hasn't been working, so let's try yours," she continued, her eyes going back down to the map. "That area over there looks like the kind place where you said we could probably be safe for a while, so let's go there."

He still gave her that incredulous sideway glance for a moment longer before nodding. He honestly hadn't thought she was the type to admit she was wrong, she seemed far too proud for that, but it seemed her practical side had won after all. That was something he could respect. Hell, he could use some of that some times himself, if he was honest. Folding the map in four, he called Merle over as always asking him for his input on the direction they'd chosen. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Michelle dropping her head back in frustration, mumbling something under her breath as she went. It was clear that she hated feeling second guessed, but he couldn't bring himself to give a crap about her hurt ego, he'd always trusted - and followed - his brother's instinct and he wasn't about to stop now. Especially since Merle was the one on the front line - because the motorcycle made it easier to zigzag around abandoned cars, Merle had become their lookout, driving ahead and reporting back if they had to move vehicles out of the way - his opinion counted even more, in Daryl's eyes, than that of a Canadian girl who'd never been to Georgia before.

With a roar, the bike came to life and before long, their small, three vehicle prepossession was began their journey toward the chosen destination. It was slow going, having to stop over and over to move vehicles off the road after the brothers had gone through them for anything useful; their _waste not, want not_ attitude was something their travel companions were definitely not fans of, but they chose to turn a blind eye to it after the first time they'd chosen to speak against their thievery. The issuing fight had simply not been worth it and John had been able to convince his daughter to drop the subject. Keeping the peace was much more important than some trinkets ending up in the other men's pockets in his opinion, mainly because, and he would not admit this even under threats of torture, if something was to happen to him, he wanted to Dixons to allow Michelle to stay with them. If someone could ensure his daughter's survival, he was willing to bet on the two rednecks driving ahead of them.

As the sun began to set on the horizon, they stopped for the night, setting up camp by the side of the road. They were more than halfway to their destination and if tomorrow shaped up to be same as today, they would reach the quarry Daryl and Michelle had spotted on the map by midday. And with some luck, there wouldn't be any surprises between here and there.


	5. Secrets and Other Drugs

The four of them ended up sharing the small sleeping space of the camper that very night. Luckily, it wasn't because of the dead this time, but because the heavens had chosen to open up just moments after they'd finished setting up camp. It wouldn't have been the first time the brothers had slept out in the rain, but neither of them argued when offered a dry place to spend the night. It was definitely crammed inside, with John's big frame take over the unfolded couch - which he'd only accepted to take after much argument with his daughter - Daryl was, once again, squeezed behind a wheel as Merle had claimed the passenger seat, and then there was Michelle, in a little ball in the last remaining spot of the floor, using folded clothes as an impromptu pillow.

It was a grumbling stomach that woke her up first, and after some careful maneuvering, she made it out of the van without waking up the three sleeping men still inside. The sun was slowly climbing up over the trees as she stretched, trying to ignore how hungry she was. The food situation was a point of contention between the four of them; Merle and Daryl were more than okay with just taking what they wanted from the shops and gas stations they'd passed on the road while John and her were still unsure about that practice, leaving money behind for the things they took in case the owners were to return. Money which, by now, was starting to run out. It might be stupid - hell, she definitely knew their companions thoughts so, as they'd told them repeatedly - but neither of them were just willing to give up society’s rules just yet.

Taking out a pen she kept in her pocket, she sat down against the back wheel of the van, enjoying the warm rays of the rising sun as she began jolting down some notes about where they were and where they were headed. She wasn't quite certain why she did it, maybe because she hoped one day all of this would be such a vague nightmarish memory that she would need it to remember what exactly had happened during the short time the dead had started coming back to bite the living, or maybe it was simply because it gave her something to do rather than just think about what the future might hold if this situation resolve itself soon.

She forced herself up with some difficulty, the headache and muscle stiffness she'd been experiencing silently for almost forty-eight hours now making it harder to move and focus. She wasn't quite sure what that whole thing was about, but there was no way she going to add to her dad's worrying by telling him about it. Sighing loudly as she silently wished the next gas station they came across would have coffee left, she made her way over to Daryl's pickup truck.

She opened the passenger door and tried to ignore the weapons piled behind the seats. As someone who'd never, to her knowledge, even been in the same room as a firearm before all this, the fact that she'd been sitting just inches from multiple guns and a crossbow made her queasy just thinking about it. Popping open the glove box, she began searching inside.

"What the hell d'you think you're doing?!"

She jumped in surprise, nearly hitting her head on the console as she stood up. Turning around, she meet a fiery gaze as Daryl took one more step toward her and pointing an accusing finger. For one of the rare times since they'd began traveling together, he was looking at her dead in the eyes, something that only seemed to happen when he was angry. She was still trying to get a read on the younger Dixon; where his brother was loud-mouthed and extroverted, Daryl seemed to be the opposite and even though he seemed to the sort of guy who'd never let someone tell him what to do, if that someone was Merle, he just completely deflated and followed whatever his brother said. One thing the two brothers did have in common though was that temper of theirs, able to go from zero to a hundred in two seconds flat. She didn't dislike him, not like she disliked Merle - she would never forgive that man for trying to put her father in harm's way - but she wasn't sure if she could trust someone with such fury inside of him.

"I was just getting the map," she assured him. "I wanna see how long we'll have until we get to the quarry..." As she spoke, she pulled on the map, getting it out of the glove compartment and lifting both hands up in surrender. She was about to say something else, to tell him to relax or he'd give himself a heart attack or something, but a strange noise distracted her attention. A clear bag had fallen out of the compartment and onto the floor, it was filled with various pill bottles and other things she didn't recognize but still, it was quite easy to imagine what they were.

She looked from the bag to Daryl and then back to the bag, her mouth falling open. Had they been riding with a junkie all this time? Letting him drive for days on end with God-knows-what in his system? They already knew his brother was a drunk but...

"They ain't mine."

She looked up at him again, passing a hand through her hair and undoing a knot in it as she contemplated what he'd said. Wasn't that exactly what someone _would_ say if it was, indeed, theirs?

"They ain't mine, okay!" Daryl repeated in a growl, giving her his trademark sideway glare again, instead of looking at her head on. There was something though, under all that anger, something deep in those small blue eyes, like shame almost. After looking down at the bag one more time, only one of the pill bottles had his last name on it, but looking closer, it wasn't his.

_Oxycycline_

_Dixon, Merle._

So he was telling the truth and he could have just told her they were Merle's but he didn't. Instead, he was willing to have her think he was the user rather than share something private like that, even though he seemed sort ashamed about the whole thing. She wondered just how far he'd go to protect his brother; although, she had feeling it was just as far as she'd go to protect her father. That was good to know.

She took a step toward the truck, and he moved to grab her, but she was closer and quickly grabbed the bag, shoving it back where it came from and closing the glove compartment. She turned to Daryl, determination clear in her expression and in her voice as she spoke.

"We're not gonna tell my dad about this," she all but ordered him, the tone of her voice leaving absolutely no room for argument, not that Daryl seemed to want to share that bit of information with John anyway. "He's worried enough as it is and he doesn't need that added to his plate. Understood?"

He nodded and with that, the conversation was closed. Michelle opened the map and began studying it, as they had the day before, looking at their planned route as her forgotten hunger seemed to return, stomach rumbling louder than ever. She only looked up when an energy bar was dropped in her field of vision, a small bribe - or a way to say thanks - from Daryl for her silence.

The two ate in silence, glancing at the other every so often and then at the camper when the other looked over. They were still getting used to having someone so different then themselves around, still gauging if they could trust the person next to them. They quickly found that despite how uncomfortable that moment they'd shared had been, just stand there in the morning sun, chewy away at the stolen powerbars was surprisingly easy. Once the bars were gone, they waited on their kin to wake up, looking forward to continuing their journey toward the quarry.


	6. Repeating Patterns

One unexpected thing happened as their small caravan made its way toward to quarry. Daryl, who had been looking forward to getting his truck back to himself, was actually missing the company he had with John and Michelle around. It would appear he had grown used to their presence, to John trying to engage him and Michelle in conversation and simply monologuing about something or another when it didn't work out. It had annoyed him at first, he'd always preferred silence over pointless talking but, now that he was alone again, he actually missed the constant flow of background noise.

He was bringing in the rear of their little group, with the Masons in the middle and Merle leading the way, of course. He found himself spending more time than he would have cared to admit watching the goings-on in the camper, his eyes focusing on them for minutes at a time. He could see John throwing his head back to laugh as Michelle made big, wild gestures in the passenger seat. At first, he'd thought she was telling her father some unbelievable story which required all those movements, but after a while he realized she wasn't talking, she had to be singing and from the way her father was laughing, it had to be quite the performance. She hadn't done anything like that when the three of them were sitting tightly in cab of the pickup truck, her own father barely getting a sentence out of her after much probing. But there she was now letting down her walls, oblivious of the fact anyone but her dad could see her antics.

He couldn't help but feel jealous and somewhat left out. This type of relationship wasn't something he'd ever had, happy times in a car with his father certainly had never happened and the few memories he still had of his mom didn't contain anything like this. Hell, even with Merle, at times, it was hard to drop down the barriers he put around himself. Usually, he had to be quite lit before they even began coming down. So, to see such a relationship happening before his eyes, quite literally, and being on the outside of it, that was rather painful and after a while, he'd managed to tear his eyes away from the father and daughter.

They were almost at the quarry when Merle suddenly turned around and headed back toward the group after his preliminary check of the area. That was a bad sign. Already the other three were considering what it was that could have made a tough man like him turn tail like that. Their minds all went to the same place though; the quarry they'd identified as the best possible place to wait this out had already been over taken by those horrible dead ones. With that in mind, when Merle got off his bike and told them there was already people up there, it seemed like a minor bump in the road, if that.

"What's the problem?" John asked, quite unsure as to why this was even a problem. The fact that they'd possibly found more survivors seemed like quite a positive to him actually. It had been three days since they'd last seen someone - someone alive that was - and he'd began worrying that they might be all that was left in this area. "Are they bit or something?"

"I dunno. Could be, all I could was some RV parked up there," Merle admitted, going over to one of the satchels on the side of his bike and grabbing a bottle of bourbon he'd taken from the last gas station they'd gone through. He took a long swig of it and then turned to Daryl, ignoring the other two. "But, if they're alive they're gonna be wanting some of what we have, or want to be protected and I ain't gonna risk my life for some assholes we don't even know."

"You didn't see anyone?" Michelle asked, taking a step forward, not planning to let the older Dixon ignore her.

"I just said I didn't," he responded, irritated, as he passed a hand over his head.

When Michelle suggested that maybe there was no one left up there which would make everything a non-issue and that even if there were people by that RV, she didn't see what the problem would be, Merle was just about to get in her face when Daryl stopped him, with a hand on his shoulder.

"We can just go and check," he suggested, trying to keep his tone casual. Truth was, he'd noticed Merle was starting to slip, getting more and more shaken with every time they encountered dead ones. It had been days since his brother was even remotely sober, but still, he couldn't bring himself to contradict him. He was his big brother and he knew, deep down, he wanted the best for them... well, for himself and Daryl. "If there ain't anyone up there, we'll have ourselves an RV instead of those shitty tents... If there are still folks around, we'll see what they're like. What d'you say, bro?"

Merle didn't really respond, just pushed his brother's hand off his shoulder and mumbled something under his breath. But regardless, he headed back to his motorcycle and moments later, the engine was roaring back to life and they were headed up the gravel road toward the top of the quarry.

As it turned out, there were people there. It would have been far too easy otherwise. They parked a little ways away as the inhabitants the small camp assembled in front of the large RV. The two groups faced off for a moment, no one talking until John stepped forward, raising a large hand in the air and greeting the people standing a few yards away.

"Hi there. The four of us thought this would be a safe place to wait whatever this is out and it seems you guys had the same idea," he said, his booming voice echoing off the rocks around them. "Do you have space for some more?"

"We do," an older man said as he walked in front of his group and toward the much taller Canadian. "We made it out here after we saw what happened to Atlanta... Were you all headed there?" When John nodded, the other man continued, extending his hand. "I'm Dale. That's Glenn over there. Amy and her sister, Andrea. And that's Jacqui and Theodore who prefers to be called--"

"T-Dog. Hi. And welcome."

As the other man approached, hand extended as well while he finished introducing himself, Merle scoffed behind John, exchanging a look with his brother. This reaction plus Jacqui's eyes landing on the symbol painted on the bike's tank - the one they'd been trying so hard to ignore this whole time - made both father and daughter blush with embarrassment.

A long, awkward moment passed and Michelle moved away from the VW camper and toward her father and the two other men. "I'm Michelle," she said, coming to stand by them and resting a hand on John's shoulder. "This is my father, John, and that's Daryl and Merle, respectively back there. It's great to see people... well, people who are, you know, alive that is..."

The afternoon progressed slowly, both group taking a moment to begin mixing, although the Dixon brothers kept to themselves, staying mostly on the outskirt of the camp. It was only when Daryl spotted something moving in the woods that he stopped observing those he viewed as newcomers with his trademark squinting glare, even though technically the four of them were the newcomers, and headed over to his truck to grab his crossbow. The sudden gesture stunned the people of the camp into frightened silence which he ignored and after reaching back behind the seats, he was handing Merle his favorite hunting rifle.

"I think I just saw a deer back there," he explained as the two of them stepped toward to woods in quasi-perfect unison. This was their element and they were both more than happy to step away from those other people for a while.

As they disappeared through the trees, Daryl could still hear some of the voices back at the camp, more precisely one of the women talking to Michelle.

"Let me guess," the woman's voice was saying. "You two didn't know these guys before all this started, right?"

"No." He heard the ginger respond, and he could almost picture her shaking her head as she did. "We met them on the road a little while back."

"I figured as mu..."

The words became to fain for him to hear and he shook his head, ignoring that little voice inside that wanted to go back and confront that woman, ask her what she meant by that. She didn't know anything about them and she was making assumptions based on nothing. Those kinds of people, always looking down on folks like him and Merle, thinking they're so much better then them... Screw 'em.

Merle stopped abruptly and Daryl scanned the area around them for whatever it was his brother had just seen. But instead of raising his riffle, Merle just turned toward him with a look in his eyes that Daryl knew too well, the same look that had so often landed them in some unsavory situations in the past; one part mischief, the other down right worrisome. And as soon as he saw it, he knew what the next words out of his older brother's mouth would be.

"I've got a plan, little brother." Those words, nothing good ever came out of those words, and still he listened, because what else could he do. This was Merle after all, his older brother, his kin, the only person he could always count on. For half a millisecond, he saw a flash of John and Michelle laughing together in the camper earlier, but as fast as it came to him, it was gone and Merle was speaking again. "This place, it could be what we've been waiting for. We can get rid of the extra baggage we picked up and get ourselves a sweet RV out of the deal. You heard that old man, the thing's filled with can food. And you said, little brother, we won't have to sleep in them shitty tents-- What?"

"What extra baggage you talking about?"

"The two strays you picked up," Merle explained, speaking to him as if he was slow and flicking him on the forehead for good measure. "We didn't even know those folks and you just decided to take them with us out of the kindness of your heart... Pfft! It's the one-eyed kitten all over again. Anyway, I say we wait a few days. Maybe 'till they go on one of them runs to Atlanta and then we just snatch that RV and sayonara! It'll be you and me again, little brother. We'll find ourselves some place nice, away from all those folks and just wait for this thing to pass."

His brother grinned at him and with that, it was decided. It wasn't worth arguing. His brother pushed onward, deeper into the forest and, as always, he was just following Merle.


	7. Ongoing Adaptations of the Misadapted

It seemed that they hadn't been the only ones to determine that the quarry would be the best place to wait and see what happened with the situation. As the days went by, more and more people trickled into the small camp. First, it was just the Morales family who arrived just hours after them, and then a man named Jim who stumbled out of the woods, scaring all of them half to death and who didn't say anything for the first three days. No one asked him what had happened, somehow they all knew. Integration into the group worked better for some than others; from day one, John was making friends with the people they'd just found, helping Dale with some repairs on the RV and helping out Jacqui and Amy with food duties. Merle was quite happy hanging by the fire at night or standing guard on top of the RV with his rifle in his lap and some of the _goodies_ Michelle had found in Daryl's truck coursing through his system. As for the younger two members of their original group, Michelle was slowly dipping her toes in the water, helping with tasks around camp but not quite ready, or able, to let anyone in just yet while Daryl chose to disappear in the woods any chance he had.

That likely had to do with their first night there, when after going Merle and him had gone hunting. They'd returned with enough squirrels to feed most all of them, something Merle had been against at first, - "They ain't worth the effort, bro. Let them starve!" - until his brother had pointed out that it would be a good way to get them to trust the two of them more. Daryl had been feeling pretty proud of the spoils they were bringing back, showing off that they weren't just the dumb hicks some of them saw them as, but the looks on those people's faces as they'd seen him walking out of the woods with the dead animals on his back... The way they all seemed disgusted or afraid, the little Morales girl, Eliza, crying her little eyes out. That had taken all pride out of him, turning it embarrassment which quickly became anger, as it so often did with him. To hell with these people. He'd focus on his group, and those other folks could fend for themselves for all he cared.

But then, he'd offered some of the meat to Michelle and John, the older man accepted right away, of course, but his daughter had shaken her head, - "Thanks Daryl, but I don't... I don't think I'm ready for squirrel just yet." - giving him a smile she'd wanted apologetic but that he took as condescending, or worse, pitying. That had been the second blow to Daryl's fragile ego that night and then, came the final one, as he'd told them about the time he'd gone squirrel hunting and saw a chupacabra. Everyone's laughter, at his expense, still rung in his head days later as he sat around fiddling with his crossbow.

"Hey Daryl," Michelle said as she took a seat by him, looking a little nervous. She rubbed her itchy eyes with the heel of hands before continuing. "I'm gonna go with Glenn to get some more food for everyone," she explained. "And the nearest place that hasn't been emptied yet is that gas station a few miles out..."

She could see in his face that he knew exactly which one she was talking about as soon as she said it. The four of them had barely made it out of the place when they'd gone through it, before arriving here. For some reason, the dead ones just seemed to be drawn to it... Maybe it was due the music that was still playing loudly out of the outdoor speakers. And even though the image of those five undead trying to get a bite of them was still fresh in their minds, food was getting scarcer by the day and the dead helped keep looters out, like some sort of messed up security system.

"You should let him go alone," Daryl mumbled, still looking down at his weapon. He didn't see why she should risk her life too when that kid was used to going on those "runs" as he called them on his own.

"He's just a kid... He doesn't know what's waiting for him there and I can't, in good conscience, just stay here and do nothing while he risks his life for us."

_For some of us, at least._

She knew Daryl and Merle didn't need the food the gas station would provide, they were used to eating what they killed, surviving in a way she, and the others, would likely never understand. She not only respected that, she almost envied it. Given the situation they were all stuck in for the time being, the Dixons definitely had an advantage on all of them. Something she'd reminded Andrea and Amy about the day before, while the brothers were out hunting. Amy had made some comment that Merle's leering over Andrea was creeping her out and that she couldn't even begin to get a read on Daryl. And even though Michelle was not Merle's biggest fan, she'd taken a stand for the brothers, telling them about all she'd already learned from them since they'd stumbled in front of Daryl's truck. She didn't even know why she felt the need to defend them, but she did. They were part of her group, regardless of how different they were from John and her, and maybe her loyalty was misplaced, but she wasn't ready to give them up just because they'd found some other folks now.

"Anyway, I was wondering... Could I borrow a weapon? I just... I don't want to be helpless out there," she admitted, licking her bottom lip nervously and rubbing her eyes again. When she lowered her hands, he was actually looking at her.

So, that was what she wanted, a weapon so she could go with the Asian boy to get food she deemed worthy of being eaten. In his mind, he could hear her again telling him no when he'd offered her perfectly good meat, and he was about to tell her he couldn't help when their eyes met. He watched her silently for a moment; her red eyes, her ginger hair with its ever-growing dark roots pulled back in a ponytail and her chapped lips now their natural color rather than the lipstick she'd worn the first few days. He hadn't noticed those things until now. Hadn't noticed that she was changing, adapting to all this, her practicality winning over that need she seemed to have to look like someone she was not. It was a nice change, in his opinion.

"What kind of gun d'you want?"

As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he was on his feet and she followed him over to his truck. He pulled the passenger door opened and folded the seat forward, revealing that small arsenal that was hidden behind it.

"I've never actually handled a gun before," she admitted as he looked through the options, leaving her feeling once again misadapted to this strange set of circumstances she was now living in. He groaned a response before reaching in and grabbing something from the floor.

"It ain't gonna be as practical, and you'll have to be much closer to one of those assholes to do anything, but it's better than nothing." He handed her the heavy machete, watching as she weighed and observed it. She was nodding as she looked down at it, and he wasn't sure if she was agreeing with him or having some sort of private conversation in her head but regardless he was glad she approved. "When you get back," he added, getting her attention again. "I'll teach you to shoot... if you want."

"Thanks for this, Daryl." Her dark eyes met his blue ones for a second as she smiled up at him. "As for the shooting lesson, let's see if I get back alive first..."

"You will." The words fell from his lips with absolute certainty behind them before he even think. Somehow, he was just certain the woman before him would be back. A flash of memory sparked in his brain and he added, "you went at one with a freaking iron. You're coming back and you definitely ain't helpless."

She didn't reply, just looked away instead but Daryl was certain he saw a hint of pink on her cheeks. He watched her as she marched toward the old Westfalia, machete in hand. She shouted to Glenn that she'd be ready to go in just a minute. - "...I just need to take out those old contacts; they're killing me!" - She reappeared moments later with a pair of rectangular glasses on. Practicality once again winning over vanity. Definitely a nice change.


	8. Life Finds a Way

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Author's Note:** Hey everyone, sorry for the lack of new chapters recently, my computer was in the shop for the past week and a half or so.

"...I'm just saying, of everyone at camp, he just happens to be the easiest on the eyes."

Michelle and Glenn had returned from their run over to the gas station, just like Daryl had predicted. She'd been incredibly grateful for the machete he had lent her, and so had her dad, given the fact that the place had been just as overrun that time around then when the four of them had had to fight their way out. Despite the dead ones, they'd returned with as much food, water and other essentials as they'd been able to pack in the car, which was great... but they'd also returned with not one, not two, but six new mouths to feed; a couple and their little girl who kept mostly to themselves as well as a mother and her son and, finally, the man Michelle had just been mentioning, Shane. A freaking cop who had began bossing people around as soon as he'd gotten there. Walking around camp like he owned the place. To say he was rubbing Daryl the wrong way would have been the understatement of the century.

"I didn't think you were some badge bunny," he mumbled under his breath as they followed the usual path. Since that day, he had been making good on his offer to teach her to shoot. She'd been nervous about it at first and, much to Daryl's surprise, John had been quite against the idea. Something he hadn't expected given the fact that the man seemed to want his daughter protected at all time, so why not give her every possible chance to be safe? As he quickly learned though, John's worries were founded, Michelle was far from a good shot due to having a messed up depth perception, but with some perseverance and a strong desire to prove herself, she was getting better everyday.

"I'm really not," she replied with incredulous chuckle and a head shake. "If it wasn't the end of the world, I probably wouldn't even have noticed him..."

He had no idea how they'd even gotten onto that subject, it certainly wasn't his doing, that was for sure. She'd been talking a bit more every time they disappeared in the woods together, a routine that was becoming more engrained every day. She was opening up bit by bit, and he was finding himself answering more and more as well. It was a strange thing, for both of them he assumed, to be slowly starting to trust the other enough to exchange more than just some passing comments. They were almost at the spot where they'd been training when her voice brought him out of his thoughts, continuing almost exactly where she had left off a moment ago.

"It's like, Merle wanting so desperately to get into either Andrea or Amy's pants. I'm sure they're not his usual type but now that the world's ending people are making due with what's out there. Although, now that I say that, I've seen your brother trying to sweet talk most every woman on that highway, when we got gridlocked, so I guess he's not really the type to have a type, huh?" She watched him for a second as he placed the empty cans they used for practice down and as she did, her smile grew. "I saw that," she added, pointing at him. "You just smiled a little."

"No, I didn't," he denied quickly, given her a side glare he hoped would wipe her grin away. Merle definitely was the sort to try and get close with any woman around, given the chance, but he wasn't about to tell her that. Honestly, Daryl was almost surprised that his brother hadn't tried to talk Michelle into something just yet, most likely it would happen once the sisters really turned him down. That was usually how it worked when they'd end up in a bar, his brother would simply work his way from the most attractive woman around and then go down from there. So either that would soon be happening or it would be the point when Merle would decide that it was time to put his plan into action and the two of them would rob the camp blind before running off into the night...

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone it happened," Michelle assured him, as he handed her the weapon she'd been using for the last few days. He kept it with him after her father had made it clear that he didn't want a firearm in the camper where they slept. As soon as the gun was in her hand though, she stopped talking, focusing on the task at hand instead of the bit of teasing she'd been doing. She wasn't quite sure why she was teasing him, in all honesty, she'd just woken up in a good mood for some reason and realized that by being up before anybody, she was able to go for a swim in the quarry without anyone seeing her. The whole thing had felt so nice, and normal, like the world around them hadn't decided to go to hell in a handbasket, that for a short, blissful moment, she'd almost forgotten that this wasn't just some long camping trip. Of course, she'd remembered quickly, but the peaceful feeling had stayed with her, making her believe that this situation, however long it lasted, might be not be as dire as it had seemed. They had a good group now, a safe spot and, maybe, things would be okay.

She raised the gun higher, taking aim at one of the cans and, once again, silently cursed at how hard it was for her to do something others would likely find easy. Clenching her jaws, she took a deep breath, her finger inching closer to the trigger when Daryl quickly raised his hand, stopping her in her movement. She was about to ask him what was the matter, when he turned toward her, index finger on his lips. She lowered the gun and watched as he crouched down, looking at the ground for a moment before sinking deeper into the woods. Carefully, and as quietly as she could, she followed him.

At first, she couldn't see anything, blindly following Daryl as he lead her god-knows-where, but as he stopped, her eyes settled on something moving in the distance, something large. A wild turkey. She watched in awe as he took his crossbow off his back without a single sound and aimed at the bird, closing her eyes as the bolt made contact with animal and only opening them again as she heard fall to the ground. He was already five steps ahead, grabbing his prize and talking about how they'd get a great meal out of it, when she got her voice back, asking him how he'd seen that bird from so far away.

"I didn't, just saw its tracks." He was barely able to finish the short sentence that she was asking him if he could teach her how to do that. How to make sure their group would be able to eat even if they ran out of regular food. She smiled as he agreed, telling her that if she got good at it, he'd take her on a hunt at some point.

"Thanks Daryl."

"It's nothin'," he told her, shrugging it off as they turned back, their footsteps the only sound anywhere around them. Carefully, and a little unsure, he added as a little joke, "thanks for not telling anyone about me smiling."

"You're doing it again by the way."

"Shut up..."

The sound of her laugh echoed around them as they headed toward camp. A sound she hadn't expected to have come out of her mouth again after the dead had began rising, but here it was. Somehow the dead coming back to eat the living still wasn't enough to stop life from happening.


	9. Highs and Lows

Michelle's eyebrows came together as frowned while her father's shot up to the middle of his forehead as they watched the unexpected display before them. Merle had pulled the small plastic bag filled with white powder out of the pocket of his vest and proceeded to inhale some of the content right in front of the father and daughter duo. John turned toward Michelle as Merle shook his head and grinned, a loud whoop breaking the silence around them. The oldest man looked absolutely shocked and about to say something and Daryl, who stood to the side watching, thought he might have to step in if John made any comment to his brother about his drug use. But, a snarl behind them cut the moment short and quickly they were all on alert.

Merle pulled out his gun and shot the dead one in the knee, making it trip and slowing it down. He was laughing as the undead woman crawled toward him, making kissing noise at her and telling her to come closer if she wanted some of him. With another shot, he managed to detach its obviously dislocated arm but still the thing kept coming and oldest Dixon seemed to be having the time of his life just piercing it with bullets.

It was the appalled look on her father's face that made Michelle step in, taking the machete that hung from her belt and walking toward the crawling geek. She swung the blade down and took half of the thing's head as she went. As she wiped off the dark, partially coagulated blood on the dead woman's shirt, her dark eyes landed on Daryl first, her anger with his decision to bring his brother along on their run was quite clear. Sure, she knew why he'd done it, Merle didn't play well with others and Shane and him had nearly come to blows the day before while his brother and her had gone out for target practice. He was trying to keep his brother out of trouble, but making him their problem instead just wasn't gonna do them any good. She jumped back a little as she looked over to Merle, planning to glare silently at the man, when she found him much closer than she'd expected.

"What the hell was that? Huh? What d'you think you're doing?" He shouted, spit landing on her face as he got even closer, gesturing wildly with his gun. His face was inches from her as he kept shouting about her butting into his fun.

Michelle was just about to snap back at him when Merle was shoved back with great force, tumbling back before handing up on his ass near Daryl's truck. She'd never seen her father looking so angry before, his face red, the large vein in his neck pulsating as he yelled never to get in his daughter’s face like that again. Merle was getting back to his feet, obviously ready for a fight when Daryl stopped him, grabbing him and pulling him toward the other side of the gas station and away from Michelle and John.

They all thought this would be just a routine run. Going back to the gas station now that Glenn and Michelle had taken down the speaker system that seemed to draw the dead to the place and get the last of the food and water it contained, but it turned out not be so straight forward. Despite the speakers being disabled, it quickly became clear that the place was still overrun by the undead. Six or seven coming out the front as soon as the Masons approached, alerted by John inadvertently stepping on the driveway bell. As the father and daughter dispatched the dead ones in the front, Daryl and Merle were able to sneak in through the back, one slow geek coming out at them as they opened the freezer case, but nothing Daryl's bolt couldn't quickly and quietly fix.

The brothers made their way deeper into the gas station, and as they reached the main room, the two of them froze where they stood... they had found the reason behind the gathering of geeks. There, on the floor between two of the shelving units laid three sleeping bags covered in a mess of what was left of the unfortunate family who had taken refuge inside the store. They'd been torn to pieces, leaving behind only some clothes, a family photo and a little stuffed lion. Neither of them was certain how long they stood there for just staring at the blood and gore, it wasn't until they heard Michelle and John come in that they looked away.

"Don't," Daryl managed to utter with great difficulty, raising a hand to keep the Masons at the door. As soon as his brother moved, Merle pushed by him, walking straight out of the store and getting onto his bike. They watched him start the engine and before they knew it, he was gone and Daryl couldn't say he blamed him; his brother was tough, always had been, but this stuff, this freaking nightmare they were living in now, that was enough to mess up anybody.

"I'll bring the stuff out," he finally said, clenching his jaw and placing his crossbow on the counter. "Just make sure those things don't sneak in."

Of course, that wasn't enough to keep Michelle from taking a step into the store, mentioning that she could help and, in response, he snapped at her that he'd just said not to come any closer. As she backed down, stepping back outside, Daryl's blue eyes met John's dark ones, the same color his daughter had inherited, the older man gave him a quick nod, seemingly understanding that he was just trying to protect his daughter by telling her to stay away and thanking him for it. Quickly, he got to work, getting everything he could from the gas station and hurrying out of that human slaughterhouse.

\---

It was later in the night and Daryl was still chain smoking by the fire. He didn't think there would be much chance of him getting any sleep tonight, not with the images of the inside of the gas station still flashing before his eyes every time he tried to close them. In that moment, he wondered if his big brother's solution wasn't the right one; when they'd gotten back to camp, he'd found Merle in his tent, high on ecstasy and appearing as if he didn't have a single care in the world. What he wouldn't give for that right now...

He looked up from the flames as he heard someone drop heavily in the plastic chair across from him. Michelle was pulling her skewed shirt back up over her bare shoulder, looking both angry and distressed at the same time as she repeatedly looked over behind her as if she expected someone to jump out and scare her.

"You alright?" A glare was only answer he got and they sat in silence for a moment before he tried again. "What happened?"

"Your brother happened," she replied, keeping her furious expression on as best as she could, the effect of it getting lost as her voice breaking ever so slightly and she unconsciously wrapped her arms around herself.

And with just those three words, she'd managed to make his heart drop somewhere by his shoes. He didn't want to ask for more details. He didn't want to hear them if there was anything be heard, really, but he had to know. "What did he do?"

"He... I came out of the camper because I heard someone outside... Merle was... he was taking a piss on the side of it," she began with a sigh, running a hand through her loose hair, the flames reflecting against the ginger strands. "I told him to knock it off and he got real close, began apologizing for earlier. He was high, that was clear... and then he began trying to sweet talk me... putting his hand on the side of my face and then down my neck and then... then I pushed him away."

She shuddered as she finished talking and he tried to ignore the tears he could see behind her glasses. Nothing had really happened but still, he felt an anger inside he hadn't felt toward his brother in ages. Without realizing it, one of his hands had balled into a fist and his jaw had clenched up, only releasing itself as Michelle spoke again, her voice sounding drained and tired.

"I know he's your brother but if this happens again, I don't know what I'll do to him... and if my dad finds out..." She sighed and passed both hands in her hair this time. "I don't even know what he'd do to him..."

"I'll take care of him," he assured her, standing up and leaving her alone by the fire as he marched toward his brother's tent. He didn't know what he'd do, but with every step, he felt himself get angrier, his mind replaying in a loop the distressed look on Michelle's face as she sat down by the fire, pulling her shirt back over her shoulder and before he knew it, he was in Merle's tent, face to face with his clearly surprised brother.

"What's the matter, little brother?"

"What the hell, Merle?! You try to get into Michelle's pants after waving a gun in her face earl--"

The uncharacteristic tirade he was about to go on was cut short as Merle burst out laughing right in front of him. With every deep belly laugh, Daryl felt angrier, he wanted to shake his brother, make him stop, make him listen, make sure he never touched his friend again.

"That's what got your panties in a bunch? That I tried to make a pass to Red over there?" Merle finally managed to say between to fits of laughter, his unfocused eyes sparkling. "What's the problem, baby brother? You don't want ol' Merle getting to third base with your girlfriend before you, is that it?"

That was the last straw and Daryl knew that if he stayed, he was at risk to do something he'd later regret and instead, chose to step out of the tent as his brother began to sang about Michelle and him sitting in a tree. He'd taken just a few steps when he spotted her silhouette by the fire and could only imagine how little she would want to see Merle the next day and quickly he made a decision, the next day he'd take Michelle hunting with him and he'd convince Merle to go on that run to Atlanta with the Chinese kid. Everyone would have a chance to come down, and things could go back to normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Author's Note:** Just for the record, I love Merle. He's honestly one of my favorite characters, even if it may not seem like it in this chapter. I just never understood why he'd choose to go on that run to Atlanta but, I feel that if Daryl had been the one to tell him to go, he might have done it for his little brother.


	10. Of Human Bonding

He somehow wasn't surprised when he woke up and realized that Michelle was nowhere to be found. He remembered figments of a conversation that he might or might not have dreamed which told him that everything was alright and as he yawned and tried to work out a crick in his neck, his eyes landed on a piece of paper next to his pillow. He recognized her handwriting right away and the words of the note confirmed what he felt.

_Dad, just in case you fell back to sleep, I wanted to remind you of what we've talked about earlier; I'm going on a hunt with Daryl and we'll be back either late today or tomorrow. We're not going toward the city, just in the forest, so don't worry yourself too much, we'll be just fine!_

Setting down the note, John looked around the empty VW camper that had become their home over the past few weeks. It was small, that was only made worst by his tendency to be quite disorganized with clothes and various items taking over the space, where as Michelle's section of the floor, where she preferred to sleep in what looked like a nest of blankets, was in perfect order. Something she'd gotten from her mother, even if she'd never admit it. It was a little strange to be living with his grown daughter again, especially in such tight quarters, but he couldn't deny being quite happy about it. He'd missed her terribly since she'd moved down to New York City years ago.

He wasn't so sure how he felt about the idea of her being out there in the woods, to hunt of all things, but at least, she wasn't there alone. He didn't know much about Daryl Dixon - heck, he probably knew more about the newest arrival at camp than he did about the younger Dixon brother - but he had a feeling he could trust him to keep his daughter safe. And as a man who had always trusted his instinct and had been quite lucky doing so, that was enough for him.

He wasn't being naive about this either, and that feeling wasn't only based on his need to see the best in people. It was based on everything he'd seen from the younger man since they'd all but stumbled in front of his truck what already felt like a lifetime ago. With everything that was happening then, many people would have simply driven around them and continued on their way... Some might have not even stopped and just ran them over to head to wherever they might have fought safe... But this man who, John could tell, had not have the easiest life or the easiest time with people and knew nothing about them had not only stopped but offered them a ride. He'd played peacemaker between Michelle and his brother many times and now, he was willing to help his daughter learn how to better protect herself in this new, messed up world they were living in. That was enough for him.

Also, he couldn't deny that seeing his daughter seeming to connect with someone, on any sort of degree, made him happy. After the accident, Michelle had retreated inside herself, and making friends or even acquaintances seemed to have become much harder for her than before. She had slowly began opening up to the world again a few years ago, and he was certain that this horrible new world was going to nip that right in the bud, but somehow, it seemed that Daryl and her were beginning to forge a type of almost friendship and he would do all he could to encourage it. The world might have turned on its head, but people would always need others around.

Walking out of the camper, John looked up to the top of the RV to see who was on watch, waving at Jim as the other man glanced his way. Stretching as he walked, he saw the camp was buzzing with activity, morning already well on its way to becoming midday; contrary to his daughter, he was always a late sleeper, usually one of the last to rise around here.

"Not hungry," he asked Amy, nodding to the bowl of instant oatmeal she was staring despondently at.

The young blond jumped from her seat on the RV's steps. Obviously, she hadn't heard him approach. Shaking her head, she lifted the bowl up toward him. "Do you want it? It might be a little cold by now, but I haven't eaten any of it yet... It's cinnamon and spices..."

The food situation being what it was these days, he would have likely accepted the bowl even if she had eaten some of it yet. It was definitely lukewarm, but that was still better than no breakfast at all. After taking a quick bite or two, he crouched down next to her. "What's got you upset?" He asked without even thinking. He knew Amy and Andrea already had a default father figure in Dale, someone who cared and looked for them, but as a father himself, he couldn't see someone younger looking this distraught and walk by without trying to fix it. If he was separated from Michelle, like Amy and Andrea's father was from separated from them - if he was still alive, that was... - he'd want people looking after his daughter.

"Andrea chose to go to Atlanta with Glenn and the others..." She responded, nervously twisting her hands together. "And if that wasn't enough, freaking Merle decided he wanted to tag along and now they're gonna be stuck not just with geeks with that... that psycho too!"

"Merle went with them?" John could hardly believe his ears. It made no sense. Merle didn't leave camp unless Daryl was with him, which he claimed loudly for everyone to hear that it was to protect his younger brother, but he'd seen the look in the other man's eyes whenever they'd had to face the dead ones... There would be no reason for him to put himself in a position where he might be stuck with those things unless there was something in it for him or Daryl...

Amy's angry scoff pulled him out of his thoughts. "Yeah, out of nowhere, he said he'd go. That he wanted to make sure they didn't bring back just rice and beans or something like that-- If something happens to her..."

"I'm sure they'll be alright," he tried to reassure her, putting a paternal hand on her shoulder before standing up again, his old knees screaming at him for crouching down for that long. "Merle might be a loose canon, but he's also lethal with that sniper rifle of his. I saw that first hand. They'll be alright."

Amy smiled at that and nodded her head, she needed to convince herself that what he was saying was true, to hold on to it along with the hope that her sister would be back safe and sound. She stood up herself, mentioning that she was supposed to go and tried to find some mushrooms for dinner before walking off. She was a sweet kid, there was no question about that, and John definitely hoped that he hadn't just lied to her about the others' chance of survival.

He was just about to make his way down into the quarry, to find some way to help around camp today, but only a few steps in, he felt a small, unsure hand on the back of his arm. He knew who it belonged to before even turning around; Carol had arrived at camp with her daughter and her horrible husband, along with Shane, Lori and her boy, Carl. She was quiet, even meek, and afraid, that much was clear right away, but the few times he'd managed to talk to her, away from Ed, she'd been great company.

"I fixed that hole you mentioned yesterday," she said with a shy smile as she handed him a pair of pants. He'd left those to dry overnight after washing them the day before and it seemed, at some point between then and now, Carol had taken upon herself to repair them.

"Thank you. That's really nice of you," he remarked, smiling down at the shorter woman with her shaved hair. Truth was, he could have sewed those up himself, but there was no reason to mention that now, especially since the compliment was making her smile a little wider.

"I... I haven't seen Michelle around all morning..." She began, looking around nervously to make sure Ed wasn't anywhere near. He wouldn't take kindly to her fixing another man's pants, or to making small talk with him either.

"She went on a hunt with Daryl," he explained, keeping an eye out for her husband as well. The last thing he'd want would be to get Carol in any sort of trouble, especially since he'd seen the bruise on her arm that she'd trying to hide for days now. He wanted to do something, to say something, but as of yet, he hadn't figured out how to bring up the subject.

"They're spending a lot of time together," she commented, with a little twinkle in her blue eyes and a hint of what sounded like almost teasing in her voice. She had just opened her mouth to continue her thought but suddenly her husband's voice boomed behind them and whatever it was she was about to say died on her lips.

"Hey! Get back here!" Ed shouted at her and John's knuckles turned white as they clenched around the neatly folded clothes. Carol rushed to him, her tail between her legs and already apologizing, little Sophia clinging to her mother and shaking like a leaf as well. Something had to be done about that god-awful man. With a glance back over his shoulder at the Peletiers, he began walking down toward the quarry again, racking his brain over what could be he could do to save someone else's wife and daughter from the man who was supposed to love and care for them. Who knew, maybe Michelle would have an idea of how to help when she got back or maybe a dead one would stumble by soon and do them all a favor by snatching Ed...


	11. Reason Enough

The moment they walked out of the woods and came face to face with some of the group, Michelle got the feeling that something was wrong and the look on her father's face as he saw them confirmed it. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Daryl raging at the dead one that had made a snack out of the deer they'd been tracking for the past few hours. It hadn't been the most successful hunt - mainly her fault due to her lack of prior experience - and, even if he hadn't said anything to that effect, it had been quite obvious he was frustrated with the result. If he'd gone alone, he would have likely returned with more than just a dozen scrawny squirrels.

As he asked the others if they thought the meat might still be edible if they cut off the gnawed on parts, she scanned those standing in front of them, there was a man she didn't know there but most importantly, there was something in all their eyes, something similar to the look her dad had. It wasn't just fear from one of the geeks finding its way near camp, it was something else, something aimed at Daryl specifically, and not the usual looks of uncertainty or disdain they tended to have for him.

Sliding over to her father's side, she silently questioned him with nothing more than a concerned frown. He was just about to answer when the geek's head began moving again near her feet, making both them jump in surprised horror. Before her hand could even wrap around the handle of her machete, Daryl had shot a bolt into the awful thing. With a hand on her heart, she gave him a quick nod as a quiet thank you to which he responded in the same way, before disparaging the others for not going straight of the dead one's brain. It was something they'd only just discovered recently, but still one would have thought it was have stuck in everyone's mind.

As Daryl walked away from them, heading toward camp, Michelle felt her father's hand on her shoulder, keeping her from following the others as they fell into step. Whatever he had to say, he hadn't wanted Daryl to hear it.

"Merle didn't make it back from Atlanta."

The words tumbled upon her like so many bricks, her mouth falling open and eyes widening behind her glasses. Now the apprehensive looks they'd all been shooting the younger Dixon made sense, announcing to Daryl that his brother was dead was going to be a terrible thing to have to do. Especially given his fiery temper. Her heart sank as his voice resounded, calling his brother's name. She could barely see the top of his head from here and as Shane began to speak, she took off running toward camp before John could add anything, leaving him shaking his head before hurrying to follow. That news was not going to go over well coming from anyone, but coming from Shane, it might somehow be even worst than it had to.

She joined up with the rest of them just as those squinty blue eyes of his looked around the crowd, awaiting for them to confirm what he feared. Even from this far, Michelle could see fissures forming inside those thick walls he kept up at all times. This wasn't fair. Even with her strong dislike for Merle, especially after the events that transpired two nights prior, the idea of him dying in Atlanta was heartbreaking; he was Daryl's family and she, of all people, knew just how hard it was to lose a sibling.

"He dead?"

Her breath got caught in her throat as Shane paused before answering the question. But when he finally did, what he said was not what she'd been expecting. She shot a glance over to her father, his face red from the run and unable to speak as he panted to catch his breath. Daryl was obviously just as confused as she was, demanding clarification and rising his voice in the process which lead the newcomer to step forward, explaining what had happened... They left him there!

She couldn't blame Daryl for his reaction, yelling that man's face; hell, she felt like yelling at him herself. Who the hell was he to make those sort of life or death decisions anyhow? Before she could even open her mouth though, things took a turn for the worst with Daryl getting knocked to the ground by Shane after he'd thrown their squirrels at the man. They all watched horrified as Daryl drew his knife, Michelle and John not even realizing they'd shouted out his name in unison until he glanced their way. That split second of distraction was enough for Shane to grab him in a headlock, that man Rick getting in his face as he struggled for air.

"Shane! Let him go!" She shouted, eyes shooting daggers at him and her hand moving to the machete on her hip without so much as a thought. When he responded that he thought it was best if he didn't, her fingers closed on the handle ready to pull it out and scare him into letting go until a large, strong hand closed on her wrist, looking up she met her father's worried eyes. His expression made her release her hold on the handle, she could tell that he wanted to help Daryl but he was also worried that if she stepped forward, weapon raised, she'd just be next in line for a choke hold of her own. Her gaze moved down at the ground, feeling both ashamed for worrying him as well as for not standing up for the man who had helped keep them alive this far.

She kept her eyes down, listening to T-Dog explaining how it was partially his fault that Merle hadn't made it back, how he'd dropped the key to the handcuffs down a drain pipe. But, there was one small silver lining to that part of the story, he'd been able to chain and padlock the door to the roof so, the dead ones would not be able to reach the older Dixon. There was some hope there, at least, not much, but some, enough to make her look up from the dirt and up to Daryl's face. The quick glance she got of him wiping away tears from his eyes did nothing to ease the shame she felt, not only for not stepping forward to help but for wishing horrible things onto his brother after the other night. They'd been justified then, but that didn't make now any easier.

"...Just tell me where he is so's I can go get him," Daryl struggled to say and she wasn't sure if it was a result of the choke hold that made his voice break like that, or simply the roller coaster of emotions he'd just been on. Regardless of which, one thing was certain in her mind, he wasn't going to go into Atlanta alone. Quickly it became clear that they weren't going to be alone on the rescue mission; the newcomer, Rick, was planning to go back as well. And as the man went to change, in Lori and Carl's tent for some reason that she would not put together until later, she walked over to Daryl who was pacing like a tiger in a cage.

"I won't use it because it will draw the dead ones to us, but I'd still like to carry the gun I've been training with, if that's okay with you?"

Either it was her voice or the question, but something seemed to take him surprise as he watched her, brows coming together in a confused frown for a moment before he finally spoke.

"You're comin'?"

"And so am I."

This time she was the one to jump. Her father's arrival right behind her was not something she'd expected, especially not him claiming to come along. She turned her back to Daryl in order to face him, tilting her head back to catch his eyes as she did. Sometimes she hated being this short next to him, and not just because it reminded her of the fact she took that characteristic from her mother, but also because it made her feel still like a child next to him.

"Dad, you can't," she argued, shaking her head in disbelief that he would even suggest such a thing. "Atlanta's going to be crawling with geeks and..."

"Exactly," he interrupted, the two of them staring down the other. Stubbornness, that was definitely something she had inherited from her father. When both of them decided they were right, it was nearly impossible to convince them to the contrary which had lead to many an argument in the past and would likely lead to many more in the future. "There'll be dead ones everywhere and that's why I'm going. I'm not gonna just sit by while you go and risk your lives!"

"Dad," she sighed in frustration, passing her hands in her hair as she did. "I know you can take down a few of those things, and I know you just want to protect me, but you get breathless climbing up the hill from the quarry." She saw he was just about to start taking again, his mouth opening to speak as his face reflected his indignation at what she was insinuating, but this time she was the one to interrupt. "I know you don't want to hear it, but we both know it's true. If we have to get away quickly... I can't-- Please stay here..."

That crack in her veneer seemed to do the trick in convincing him, and a moment later she pulled tightly into one of his backbreaking bear hugs as he mumbled against her hair to promise to be careful and come back to him alive. "...I can't lose you either."

"I'll be okay, dad. Promise."

It was blaring of the van's horn that made them break apart, along with Daryl's shout to get going already. As she jumped into the back of the truck, she was surprised to find out that the new guy had somehow managed to talk Glenn into come along, and T-Dog was also joining them. The back door rolled down a moment later, but not before she caught one last look at her father's worried face; she hoped she hadn't just made him a promise she wouldn't be able to keep.

Closing her eyes to try and get that image of her father's tearful eyes out of her mind, she settled down on the floor, with her head against the wall, preparing herself for the hour long ride into the city. When she opened them again, Daryl was next to her, handing her the gun she had requested; it felt like so long ago that she had forgotten even asking him for it.

"Why d'you wanna come?" He asked bluntly, watching her with the confused expression he had earlier. "After the other night, I'm sure Merle ain't your favorite person these days..."

"Maybe not, but he's your brother and we're friends, so that's reason enough right there."

There was more to it than that, of course, but the answer seemed to satisfy him after a moment of him thinking about it when finally he nodded. Without a word, he stood up again, returning to his previous pacing despite the movement of the truck as she closed her eyes again, hoping this rescue mission would have a happy ending for all of them.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Author's Note:** I must apologize for the clichéd last name, I just couldn't help myself!


End file.
